


Hard to Do

by iamhollsteintrash



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamhollsteintrash/pseuds/iamhollsteintrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashlyn Harris and Ali Krieger have fallen in love, but hit a snag when their priorities don't mesh. Angst ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before & After

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all. So I had this idea from a post on tumblr and then it high-key spiraled into this. There's no real spot in the timeline of IRL AK/AH relationship where this fits, so it kind of just exists. I hope you like it!

Two weeks before, Ashlyn Harris carries Ali Krieger to the door of their brand new apartment, up three flights of stairs from the streets of Georgetown. Ashlyn pins her to the wall as she hunts for the key in her back pocket, propping her up with her hips, Ali’s legs tight around Ashlyn’s waist. Ali knows Ashlyn is ignoring the way her legs are screaming to maintain the romantic gesture, and peppers kisses down her girlfriend’s neck in an attempt to distract her.

When Ashlyn is able to get the door open, she carries Ali through the threshold. Neither of them say anything about the undertones, but Ali knows Ashlyn and it is definitely intentional.

They had shopped for apartments for months, any time they were both in DC at the same time. When Ali was away, which was more often than she liked, be it with the National Team or her club team, Ashlyn had spent hours browsing realty sites in her office and sent Ali pictures of apartments she went to visit. Ali’s only distinct memory of the day they signed the lease is the feeling of sweat from summer in the capital pooling at the base of her back and the way Ashlyn’s signature looked directly above hers. Like it was something _real_ , like _they_ were something real. 

That summer sweat is gone, now, with cooler weather settling and the leaves falling from the trees and getting tracked into the foyer of every home and apartment building in the northeast. Ali tries to surreptitiously check and make sure Ashlyn isn’t bringing any particularly stubborn ones into their brand, spanking new home, but Ashlyn notices – she always does – and lifts her feet for Ali to see.

  
“We’re clean, I promise,” Ashlyn says with a wink.  
 

They have no furniture, only boxes of their stuff, and every sound they make echoes. Their plan is to sleep on an air mattress, their furniture set to arrive at a staggered pace. But their kitchen is set, marble countertops matching a small kitchen island. Ashlyn presses Ali against the door when she kicks it closed, kissing her neck as Ali runs her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. They make out against the fridge, and when Ashlyn places Ali on the counter, Ali grinds her hips into Ashlyn’s, more desperate with every passing moment.  
  


“Sweetheart,” Ashlyn murmurs against Ali’s lips. “I need to show you something.”  
  


“Unless it’s you, naked, I’m not interested.”  
  


“Fair,” Ashlyn begrudgingly pulls herself from her girlfriend. “But hear me out. I know we have a lot of moving to do. And I know we were planning on suffering on an air mattress. But...” She jerks her head towards the closed door of their bedroom.  
  


Ali’s eyes light up. “You’re kidding. No you didn’t.” She slaps Ashlyn’s arm.  
  


“I was able to twist some arms and got it delivered a couple days ago. I couldn’t work my magic anywhere else,” she says, gesturing at the empty living room “But we have a real bed to sleep on.”  
  


Ali grabs ahold of Ashlyn’s shoulder. “Is it made?”

  
“Would I ever let you sleep on unmade bed?”  
  


Ali hops off the counter, pushing Ashlyn away and grabbing her hand, dragging her to the bedroom and the king bed waiting for them. They don’t leave the bedroom again except when Ashlyn tugs boxers over her hips and pulls on a t-shirt to pick up pizza from the front door.

 

\--

 

Ten days before, Ali drops the bomb unceremoniously while they eat Chinese food on their floor.  
  


Ashlyn spends the day wrestling with directions for their IKEA dining room set, in a t shirt with cut sleeves and a pair of gym shorts, her hair tied up in a tight bun. Ali spends it curled up on the couch, watching football and sipping a cup of coffee, muting the TV once to check on her "handyman" girlfriend.  
  


“How are you, sweetheart?” she coos across the room. Ashlyn groans in reply, and Ali decides it's best to just let her be. After a few hours, after Ali returns from a run and showers, Ashlyn calls her into the dining room.  
  


“Hey babe?”  
  


When Ali leaves the bathroom, she sees Ashlyn standing over the kitchen set, the chairs half built and tabletop laying on the floor.  
  


“Don’t the Japanese or something eat on the floor?” Ashlyn asks as Ali wraps her arms around Ashlyn’s waist, planting kisses down the back of her neck.  
  


“I think so.”  
  


“Can we just… Can I just stop doing this for today? And we can play the part and order Japanese for dinner?”  
  


Ali slides her hands up Ashlyn’s back, rubbing her shoulders. “Of course.”  
  


They order delivery, and while Ashlyn sits across from Ali, picking at a takeout container with a pair of chopsticks, Ali decides to say what she's agonized over for months. She agonized over it in hours of phone conversations with her brother and coffee dates with her friends. There was a plan, as there always was, a plan that included a romantic walk through town and a nice, expensive dinner. But instead, as Ashlyn sits across from her, having stripped her t-shirt off in favor of a sports bra, eating and trying to read instructions that Ali is pretty sure are upside down, Ali just says it.

“I’m in love with you, Ashlyn.”

  
Ashlyn looks up, eyebrows raised, and places her dinner to the side.  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Yeah. I’m in love with you. I love you. Whatever.”  
  


Ashlyn’s grin is a thousand watts. “Cool.”  
  


“Just cool?” Ali’s stomach drops, and it takes a second for Ashlyn to realize. She clambers across the tabletop to kiss Ali, cupping her face in her hands and pressing their foreheads together afterwards.  
  


“Alex, I love you too. I absolutely love you too.”

 

 

\--

 

The day before, they have a blowout fight. Someone, a fan of Ali's, spots them at Target while Ashlyn is resting her hand on the small of Ali’s back, as she is wont to do. Ali recoils from Ashlyn’s touch after the obligatory picture, all smiles until it's just the two of them again.  
  


“Are you okay?” Ashlyn murmurs, reaching for her girlfriend’s hand.  
  


Ali draws back. “Can we just finish? And head home?”  
  


“Of course.”

  
They finish shopping in relative silence, and as Ashlyn loads the bags in the back of the car, Ali climbs in the front seat. This isn’t the first time it happened, her recoiling from Ashlyn in public, and she feels guilty. Ashlyn’s love is a shout it from the rooftops, fuck anyone who doesn’t like it kind of love. Ali’s love is quieter, more reserved, but just as real. Ali felt she could love without telling everyone, especially if it meant they could forego the undoubtedly sticky coming out to the whole world process. When Ashlyn joins her, climbing into the driver’s seat, she’s visibly annoyed. Ali reaches for her hand on the gear shift, and Ashlyn immediately pulls it away, white knuckling the car out of the parking lot towards their home.  
  


“You don’t get to turn off being my girlfriend, Ali. You don’t get to just not _know_ me when people see us and then reach for me when we’re alone.”  
  


“I don’t act like I don’t know you, Ash,” Ali replies, her voice soft and full of hurt.  
  


“Okay. Sorry. You act like I’m your very best friend who buys you nice shit and _lives_ with you. Is that a better description?”

  
“Ashlyn. You know I can’t.”

  
“Can’t what?” Ashlyn practically laughs. “Can’t come out? Can’t grow up and realize relationships don’t fucking _last_ behind closet doors? Can’t be fucking accountable to the people who care about you?”

  
“I know you don’t mean that.”

  
Ashlyn is silent for a moment, cracking her knuckles as they sit at a red light. She sounds wounded when she speaks again.

  
“Alex, I just want you to be proud of us, of _this._ It’s been over a year. We exchange I love yous and sleep in the same bed. We’re adults. I want to know you’re as invested and proud of this as I am.”

  
“I am invested. I am proud. I’m just not ready to share you – this – with the world yet.”

  
“Would you be ready if I was a man?”

  
Ali turns to the window, trying to keep Ashlyn from seeing tears stinging her eyes. She knows the answer, and she knows Ashlyn does too. For every month of patience, there’s a night like this, where Ashlyn’s frustrations boil over. Ali isn’t sure if those frustrations are aimed at her for not coming out or at Ashlyn herself for lacking the right, for lack of a better word, parts.

  
The rest of the ride is silent, but when Ashlyn drops all of the bags on the counter– always a one trip girl – Ali reaches for her hand.

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Me too,” Ashlyn whispers, running her thumb over Ali’s.

  
“I’m trying, I promise. I’m getting there.”

  
“I know.”

  
“I love you.”

  
“I know.” Ashlyn pauses before speaking again. “I love you too.”

  
When Ali goes to bed that night, Ashlyn begins getting dressed to go out.

  
“Where are you going?” Ali asks, tucked under the sheets.

  
“Just going to go get a drink with some of the guys,” Ashlyn replies, pulling a blazer over her t-shirt. “I’ll be back later.”

  
“I’ll miss you.”

  
“Me too.”

  
Ali waits up, not on purpose, more because she’s not used to sleeping alone anymore. When midnight comes and goes along with three unanswered texts, Ali gets on her phone, scrolling through her Instagram feed. There are three pictures, all from Ashlyn’s friends, of all of them, surrounded by pretty girls. Ashlyn is deep in conversation with one, a brunette. Ali knows Ashlyn would never do _anything_ with someone else, but can’t help the way her stomach drops.

  
She’s almost asleep when she hears Ashlyn’s keys jingle in the door and checks the clock. 2AM. She sits up, waiting for Ashlyn to stagger into the bedroom. When 10 minutes pass, she climbs out of bed and opens the door of their bedroom, peeking into the living room. Ashlyn is curled up on the couch, fully dressed, fast asleep. Ali crouches beside her, pressing on her shoulder gently to wake her up. Ashlyn stirs, and her breath smells like bourbon.  
  


“Hey.”

  
“Do you want to come to bed?” Ali says, kissing Ashlyn’s nose.

  
“I’m okay. I’m warm and settled here.”

  
“Please? I’ll get you warm in bed.”

  
“I think I'm okay, I'll sleep here.”

\--

 

The day of, Ali almost expects it. She returns from a run to Ashlyn sitting on their couch, tossing her car keys between her hands. Things haven’t entirely retuned to normal from the previous day and Ali can practically feel the eggshells under her feet, her stomach in knots when she opens the door of the apartment.  
  


“What’s up?” she asks, tugging her headphones from her ears and pulling a glass from the cabinet. Ashlyn stands, shoving her keys in her pocket.

  
“I think I need some space,” she says, hurriedly. Ali almost drops the glass she’s holding.

  
“What?”

  
“I think I need some space. I packed some bags and they’re in my car, I’m going to crash with-”

  
“Ash.”

  
“I’m going to crash with Eli for a little while.”

  
Ali bites down on her lip so hard she tastes blood and Ashlyn stands on the other side of the kitchen island, completely immobile. Ali wonders if she’s even going to blink.

  
“Are you coming back?”

  
“Alex…”

  
“Can you at least explain to me why you need space? So I can try to fix whatever is going wrong?”

  
“I just. I was talking to the guys last night.”

  
“Was that before or after you took pictures with all those beautiful women?”

  
“What?”

  
“Did you think I wouldn’t see? I literally follow _all_ of your friends on Instagram. Were you looking for someone to fuck who would gloat about it on social media? Looking for somebody to live tweet it?”

  
Ali’s practically spitting and Ashlyn’s face pales.

  
“Alex that’s not fucking fair. You know I would never do something like that. You know I would never cheat on you.”

  
“But you would get talked into breaking up with me by people who are not in this relationship?”

  
“I tell Eli everything. He’s one of the, like, three friends I have left that isn’t _ours_ , just _mine_.”

  
“And what, he told you to leave me because of what happened in fucking Target yesterday?”

  
“We talked about how _this,_ ” Ashlyn says, gesturing between the two of them. “might not be the healthiest way for me to live my life right now. I spent too long in the closet to go back in now because of your _career_.”

  
“It’s not your fucking decision, Ashlyn!” Ali’s voice is louder than Ashlyn’s, and she knows she’s not making a case for herself. “You don’t get to make this,” she says, exaggerating Ashlyn’s gesture between the two of them. “Happen any fucking quicker! Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make me come out? Do you know what that means for someone like me?”

  
“I don’t want to make you come out.” Ashlyn’s voice is so soft that it just makes Ali angrier. “And I know that I'm not nearly in the spotlight - my soccer career fizzled too damn fast and now I work a boring ass office job. I get that. I just want to know that you’re working _towards it._ And I don’t know if you are. And I don’t know if that’s what’s best for me.”

  
“So you’re just going to leave?”

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Fuck you,” Ali spits.

  
Ashlyn leaves like a dog with its tail between its legs, her keys jingling in her pocket as she walks down the stairs. Ali walks through the apartment, breathing in and out steadily, taking note of Ashlyn’s drawers haphazardly thrown open and how carefully Ashlyn took her things from the bathroom – all traces of Old Spice gone.

  
Ali rips the sheets off the bed, balling them up and throwing them in the corner of the room. Then she calls Liz, proud of how steady she can keep her voice.

  
“Hey. Are you free? Do you want to come over? Can you do me a favor? On your way over, can you stop at Target and pick up a set of king sheets. I’ll venmo you the money. You’re the best.”

  
Then she calls Kyle.

  
“Ashlyn’s gone.”

  
“What? What happened? Are you okay?”

  
Ali tells the story, from the moment in Target where she jumped at Ashlyn’s touch to the girls in the pictures to the conversation in the kitchen.

  
“Do you need me to come out there?”

  
“I wouldn’t hate having you around, but I know you’re busy,” Ali all but whimpers, her voice finally giving out.

  
“Shut up. Family’s more important.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
It takes 2 days for there to be all but a revolving door on their apartment – _her_ apartment. Kyle calls Ali’s teammates and Liz calls Ali’s friends from home, and it’s almost too much to have her worlds collide like this. At first, Ali tries to muster the emotion to be a hostess, but eventually it’s too much and she all but parks it on the couch, only moving to get out of bed. Her teammates get her moving (“the offseason isn’t forever!”), and she runs her fastest mile half out of spite. She gets new sheets, a new duvet cover, but at night, when everyone is gone besides her brother, who sleeps on the couch, she clings to Ashlyn’s pillow.

 

\--

 

The first time Ali sees Ashlyn after, it’s been two months and they’re both drunk. Ali recognizes Ashlyn’s laugh, even in a room as loud as the bar they’re in. Her head snaps around, and she spots Ashlyn laughing, leaning against the bar, chatting with some _bitch._ Maybe not a confirmed bitch, but a bitch. Ashlyn’s movements are loose, her smile lopsided and eyes bright. She’s drunk and Ali is suddenly self-conscious – of her hair, her clothes, even the drink in her hand. Two months ago, Ashlyn would have made fun of Ali for drinking something that doesn’t taste like alcohol. Now, she doesn’t even know they’re sharing the same room. Even worse, she looks _happy_ , and Ali is sure she hasn’t spent the last two months crying in bed.

  
Ali should have known that Ashlyn would be here, in a bar they frequented together all the time because of how close it was. And she swears she can smell Ashlyn from here, bourbon and Old Spice and something so uniquely _her_ it could never be bottled. Ali taps Liz on the shoulder as the walls begin to feel like they’re closing in, as though running into Ashlyn in this packed bar is inevitable. Her smile is tight and her fingers feel cold.

  
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she says, leaning into Liz’s ear.

  
“Already?” Liz says, tilting her head in confusion. “Are you feeling okay?”

  
It takes her a second to realize what the look on Ali’s face means, and she begins to look around the bar frantically. “Alex, you can’t let her ruin your night. This is the first time we’ve been out in months.”  
  


“It’s fine, Liz, have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can get coffee. Have fun.”  
  


“Please stay. Please. She’ll probably leave when she sees you.”  
  


“Either that or she’ll see me and try to talk to me.”  
  


“She’s a bitch but she’s not stupid, Ali.”  
  


Ali tries to plead with her friend without attracting the attention of the rest of their group. No one’s night should be ruined because Ali can’t be in the same room as her ex.  
  


“I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”  
  


As Ali weaves through the crowd, away from the group of women she came who had had to work to drag her from the couch, she prays that Ashlyn didn’t notice her. Her head is fuzzy and her eyes are watering as she bursts into the DC air. It takes a minute to put herself together enough to order a cab, leaning on the outside wall of the bar. It’s five minutes away, which probably means closer to ten, and all Ali can do is pray that Ashlyn doesn’t decide to leave before she does.  
  


In three minutes, Ashlyn is tossed from the bar unceremoniously, the bouncer stepping in front of the door to keep her from getting back in. Ali presses herself against the wall, praying Ashlyn doesn’t see her while trying to take in her outfit. It’s not a surprising one – Ashlyn likes black t shirts and black jeans and gold chains – but it looks as amazing as it always did, hugging her body in all the right places. She’s yelling at the bouncer, barely slurring.

   
“You’re going to toss me and not the one who fucking _hit_ me? Are you fucking kidding?”  
 

Half of her face is bright pink, almost red. She got clocked in the bar for sure, but not by anyone strong. She turns away from the door, digging into the pocket of her pants for her phone as Ali’s car pulls up. Hearing Ali’s heels click across the sidewalk, Ashlyn spins.  
 

“Alex?”  
  


It takes all of Ali’s strength not to turn to Ashlyn, to answer, but when she finally tucks herself in the back and gives the driver her address, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. When she gets home, she’s sure to hang her keys where they belong, text Liz that she’s arrived home, and put her shoes in the closet before sinking onto her mattress and letting herself cry. She falls asleep fully dressed.

 

\--

 

The holidays are not kind to Ali. Her family edges around the elephant in the room, trying to keep Ashlyn’s name out of the conversation. It’s harder than one would expect, and Ali gives them a lot of credit for asking questions without mentioning that almost everything Ali did over the last year was done with a partner. Ali’s wounds still smart, especially after finding out from their mutual friends that Ashlyn had attributed the breakup to Ali’s jealousy instead of the real issue. And while part of her is grateful that she’s not being forced to explain the coming out issue, it still hurts to hear Ashlyn’s spin on things.  
  


One night, Ali lays across her bed, staring out the window of her childhood home as Kyle sits on the floor, keeping an eye on her after she had probably had a few too many glasses of wine.  
  


“Do breakups even happen when it’s warm?” Ali asks, her voice thick with wine, her head hanging off the edge of her childhood bed. The blood is rushing to her face, but she likes to see the world upside down - it almost makes more sense that way. Kyle laughs, just out of her line of vision.  
  


“Do you think no one’s ever ended a relationship in Los Angeles?”  
  


“I bet it happens less often.”  
  


Ali sits up, rubbing the bridge of her nose and tousling her hair until it’s once again elegantly disheveled.  
  


“What do you think it is about cold weather that makes people break up, then?” Kyle asks.  
  


“You hold your partner closest when you’re cold, you know. So when it’s cold and you’ve got to hold them, that’s when you realize you don’t want to anymore.”  
  


“Ali that doesn’t make any sense.”  
  


“No, no, it’s true,” Ali says, closing her eyes. “There’s more maintenance in the winter. It’s a good season for breakups.”  
  


“You know she didn’t do it because she didn’t want you, Al.”  
  


“Not initially. But ‘space’,” she says, putting dramatic air quotes around the word. “Turned into posting pictures with other women and judging wet t-shirt contests pretty damn quickly if you ask me.”  
  


“Everybody deals with heartbreak differently.”  
  


“If you’re just going to defend her, Kyle, you might as well not sit here. Why don’t you call her and tell her you think so highly of her?”  
  


The question comes out sharper than she means it to, and she claps her hand over her mouth.  
  


“I’m sorry.”  
  


Kyle’s expression of shock quickly settles back into concern. “It’s okay. Maybe just drink some water and get a good night’s sleep, okay? I’ll tell everyone you felt sick after dinner.”  
  


“Like they don’t already know I’m a mess,” Ali says, getting up to dig through her bag for pajamas.  
  


“You’re putting on a brave face, at least.”  
  
  
"I miss her, you know."

  
"I know."  
  
  
"I love her."  
  
  
"I know."   
  


Kyle stands, wrapping Ali in a hug she doesn’t want to end.  
  


“You’re going to be okay. You’ll be surprised how much stronger you’ll be on the other side.”

 

\--

 

The next time Ali sees Ashlyn, it’s been three months. The New Year is fresh and so are Ali’s resolutions. Namely, never speaking Ashlyn’s name again. But Ali is at Whole Foods, buying food for the week, when she hears a familiar voice behind her.

 

“Nice sweatshirt.”  
  


Ali’s heart all but stops as she connects the words with the crest on her chest. The ratty UNC sweatshirt, Tar Heel blue, she had worn throughout their relationship and held on to afterwards. In the beginning, it was because it still smelled like Ashlyn, but after three months, Ali barely realized it wasn’t _actually_ hers. Maybe for a minute when she takes it out of the wash and another when she first puts it on. _Maybe_ she still thinks about Ashlyn doing the Tar Heels cheer at the television in her apartment when they first started dating. _Maybe_ she thinks about when she first absconded with it – and _maybe_ she thinks about when Ashlyn saw her wearing it and nothing else and all she was able to say was “Carolina blue looks good on you,” before pulling her in for a kiss. Maybe. If just for a moment.  
  


She spins on the sole of her foot to face Ashlyn, whose grin is just short of shit eating. She looks great, as she always does, a grey t-shirt peeking out from a zipped winter coat. She always did overreact to the cold.  
 

“Hey, Alex.”  
  


“I don’t think you get to call me that anymore,” Ali says, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Ashlyn’s eyes drop, and she buries her hands in the pockets of her coat.  
 

“I’m sorry.”  
  


“You’ll have to be a little bit more specific about what you’re sorry for.”  
  


Ali knows how hard her voice is, and as satisfied as she is that she hasn’t broken down in tears in the canned food section of this Whole Foods, it’s still uncomfortable to see Ashlyn look like a kicked puppy.  
  


“Ali I’m not trying to start a fight with you,” Ashlyn says. Her voice is still soft, still gentle, and she still has the slightest southern inflection. “I miss you. My grandma asked about you over Christmas.”  
  


“What’d you tell her?” Ali says, leaning on the handrail of her cart. “That you broke up with me because you needed _space_ a week after I told you I loved you because I wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops? Or that I broke up with you because I’m a jealous bitch? I’ve heard both stories. I’m always curious about which one I’m going to get when I run into one of our friends.”  
 

“Ali, that’s not fair.”  
  


“Did you tell her that you moved in with me when I moved back here and left half of your _shit_ behind for me to clean up? That you told me you were coming back and never did?”  
 

Ashlyn’s hurt, and it’s not satisfying, but Ali can’t stop once the floodgates are open.  
  


“Did you tell her that within a month you were posting pictures with new girls every weekend?”  
  


“I told her the truth, Ali.”  
  


“Well I’m glad you can do that for _somebody,_ ” Ali spits, spinning again and wheeling her cart down the aisle to keep from asking the identity of every woman Ashlyn had posted about after the breakup.  
  


She checks out as fast as she can, praying that Ashlyn doesn’t follow her while simultaneously hoping she will. She knows that if Ashlyn follows her it will be enough and she'll all but collapse in Ashlyn's arms, begging to try again.  
  
As she loads the back of the car with her groceries, she feels the tears finally rising, a heaving sob trapped in her chest. When she gets in the car and the tears finally do leak from her eyes, she considers calling Kyle or HAO or Liz or Pinoe, but decides against it in favor of powering through it on her own.  
  


“You can’t lean on people for every little thing that has to do with Ashlyn,” she says out loud to herself, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.  
 

When she gets home, she rips the sweatshirt off and spends thirty minutes deliberating on the best way to get rid of it. She could burn it or cut it up or throw it out the window or just into a dumpster. She could mail it back to Ashlyn with the rest of the _shit_ she left behind, if she knew where Ashlyn lived. She could sell it, post it on Instagram with a “for sale” caption.  
  


“That’d show her coming out,” Ali whispers, staring down the sweatshirt on her coffee table.

In the end, all she can bring herself to do is toss it back in her laundry hamper, deciding to decide next time she does the wash.

 

\--

 

It’s 2am on February 12th when Ali hears from Ashlyn again. Her phone rings as she flips through the channels on her TV, cradling a glass of wine, once again unable to sleep. She considers ignoring the call when she sees the number flashing on the screen, but the three glasses of wine in her make her press accept.  
 

“Hello?”  
  


“Ali?”  
  


“Hi Ashlyn.”  
 

“I didn’t think you would pick up, I thought you’d be asleep. Are you traveling?” Her voice is ever so slightly slurred.  
 

“No. Are you drunk?”  
  


“Kind of. Are you?”  
  


“Kind of. Are you okay? Do you need to be picked up? I can’t drive right now but I could call Liz or somebody.” Ali silently chastises herself for offering a favor to someone she’s supposed to hate.  
  


“No, no, I don’t need to be picked up. I’m okay.”  
 

“Okay.”  
  


There’s a beat of silence before Ashlyn speaks. “Can I ask you something?”  


Ali knows it’s in her best interest to say no, to hang up and block her number.  
  


“Sure.”  
  


“Do you miss me?”  


“Ash.”  
  


“Alex,” she pauses. “Ali. I need to know if you miss me. I took a cab over here in the middle of the night and I know this was probably a mistake but I needed to see you. And now I’m here and I got too nervous to ring your bell but if you miss me maybe this won’t feel as stupid.”  
  


Ali barely thinks before responding, her heart rate picking up at the thought of Ashlyn waiting outside her door. “I miss you every day.”

  
“Can you buzz me in? It’s cold.”  
 

Ali stands, not sure if she’s shaky because of Ashlyn or because of the wine or because the thermostat is too low, and makes her way to the door, pressing the buzzer until she hears Ashlyn open the door on the other end.  
 

“I’ll see you in a minute, okay? I’ll be right there,” Ashlyn says. Her voice is reassuring, like it was when she talked Ali through nightmares and elevator rides. She has three flights of stairs to climb, and Ali has three flights of stairs to prepare herself.  
  


“The door’s unlocked,” Ali says softly, hanging up the phone and moving across the apartment to sit back on the couch, pouring the remnants of the wine bottle into her glass.  
 

Ashlyn walks into the apartment like it’s still her home, eyes bleary and face red. She’s drunk, yes, but she’s also been crying. And she’s severely underdressed, in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, sans coat or sweatshirt.  
 

“Ash, are you crazy?” Ali says, jumping up to meet the shivering woman in her doorway. “Come here.” She takes Ashlyn’s hand, leading her to the couch to sit, pulling a blanket over her and moving to the kitchen to make tea from her Keurig. “Do you need something hot to drink?”  
 

“You don’t feel the cold as much when you’re drunk, you know,” Ashlyn shouts from the couch, and Ali can hear practically hear her stupid, lopsided grin.  
  
  
“That doesn’t mean you’re not going to get sick.”  
  


Ashlyn shrugs as though resigned to the fact.  
 

“You’re worth it.”  
 

“Nobody’s worth dying from pneumonia.”

   
“That’s your opinion.”  
  


“Ashlyn. Please don’t be ridiculous.”  
  


“I’m sorry.”  
  


Ashlyn’s voice is soft, fuzzy almost – Ali can hear the remnants of a long cry in her chest.  
  


“Why are you sorry?” Ali asks, handing Ashlyn the tea and sitting on the other end of the couch. She curls her legs underneath her, trying to put as much distance between herself and her shaking ex as possible.  
  


“I’m sorry I’m a dick. I’m sorry I broke your heart.”

  
“Those are pretty good reasons to be sorry.”

 

“I know.”  
  


Ashlyn stares into her tea, still too hot to actually drink. Ali bites her lip for a moment before speaking again, asking the question that’s been rattling around in the back of her head for the last four months.  
 

“Why’d you leave?”  
 

“I was scared you’d decide I was a fling.”  
 

“Ashlyn.”  
  


“I know. I know.”  
 

“I told you I loved you, Ash. I meant it.”  
  


“I know. I meant it too. I still mean it.”  
 

“Then how could you leave and not come back?”  
  


“I was scared. And I knew that what I wanted from you wasn’t what you could give me. And I wasn’t willing to wait for it.” She pauses, taking the smallest sip of tea she can. “And then when we broke up everyone told me I was a fucking _idiot_. And I knew they were right. And then I saw you at a bar one night in December and you looked like you were having fun, so I thought I had made the right decision, at least for you. And then Liz slapped me when she saw me.”  
 

“She did?” Ali gasps. “She never told me. Well I told her I saw you, she didn’t tell me she talked to you.”  
  


“She didn’t really talk to me,” Ashlyn says, smiling a little and placing her hand on her cheek. “She mostly just slapped me.”

  
“Is that why you got kicked out?”  
  


“Yeah. She started screaming that I started it. So they gave me the boot.”  
  


“I didn’t tell her to, I promise.”

 

“I know, I never thought you did.”

 

“And then you saw me at the grocery store?”

 

“And then I saw you at the grocery store. In my sweatshirt.”  
  


  
Ali rolls her eyes. “I wore that sweatshirt so much when we were together, I would barely call it _yours._ ”

 

“So you’re a Tar Heel now?” Ashlyn retorts, her eyebrows raised. She laughs when Ali scrunches up her nose at the thought. “That’s what I thought.”

 

She sighs. “And then you yelled at me, which I completely understand. And when I went home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I had fucked up.”

 

“You really did. I’m a catch.”

 

“Alex,” she groans. “I’m trying to pour my heart and soul out to you here. You don’t have to remind me that you’re cute.”

 

“Like you ever forgot,” Ali says with a smirk.

 

“How could I?”

 

Ashlyn is suddenly stone cold sober, her voice even and measured.

 

“It wasn’t fair for me to leave you because your timeline didn’t fit mine. Coming out is hard enough without other people’s pressure. I was selfish and mean and what I did was wrong. I should have been more patient.”

 

“You’re right.”

 

“But I meant it when I said I loved you. I still do. And I want to know if you could find it in your heart to try this again.”

 

“Ashlyn.”

 

“I’m not saying I need to move in here again. Yet. We could start from square one. I’ll pick you up and take you on a nice date, resist the urge to kiss you at the end of the night. You can take your time – put me on probation.”

 

Ashlyn’s sheepish, which she isn’t usually, staring into the steam coming off her mug.

 

“I just don’t really want to do this whole living thing without you.”  


Ali can think of a thousand reasons on the spot to say no – including that they’re both drunk, every single person Ali has cried to for the last four months will chastise her, and that it’s hard to say no to somebody so beautiful. But she can think of a thousand and one reasons to say yes – the way the dim light in the apartment hits Ashlyn’s eyes, the way her smile still makes Ali melt, and the fact that Ali has imagined this moment in her head every night before going to sleep.

 

“Are you asking me because you’re drunk or because you actually want this?”

 

“Can it be both?”  
  


“Can I give you a conditional yes?”

 

“Depends on the condition.”

 

“Sleep here, on the couch, sober up. If tomorrow you will want this – me, and if I still want you, we’ll try again.”

 

“And if not?”

 

“You leave, and delete my number and we forget this ever happened.”

  
"Deal."

 

\--

 

Ali Krieger wakes up at 10AM on February 12th to the smell of coffee. The floor is cold when her feet hit it, and she takes a minute to put on socks before shuffling into the kitchen.

 

A fully dressed Ashlyn Harris turns to meet her, pouring coffee into two mugs.

 

“I always thought you were an earlier riser than this, Krieger.”

 

“Only when I don’t have my drunk ex banging down my door at 2am,” Ali responds, crossing her legs to sit in a dining room chair. Ali can tell Ashlyn’s blushing even as she looks down at their mugs. When Ashlyn finishes fixing the coffee (Ali takes note that Ashlyn remembers how she takes it), she sets both mugs on coasters on the table.

 

“So,” Ali says, sipping her coffee. “What do you think?”

 

“I think,” Ashlyn says, slowly. “I’d really like to buy you dinner tonight. If you’d like to go with me.”

 

“I think my schedule is clear.”  
  
  
"For a date?"

  
Ali sighs. "Let's not call it a date, okay? There's a lot of stuff we need to talk through before we even reach square one. I need you to understand that."  
  
  
Ashlyn is stoic as she nods. "Sounds perfect to me."  
  


They make small talk over coffee, mostly about Ashlyn’s job and Ali’s upcoming camp. When Ashlyn starts to leave, she pauses in the doorway.  
 

“Is your family ever going to forgive me?”

 

“How about you work on me first, and we tackle that part together?”

 

Ashlyn smiles weakly. “If you say so. I’ll pick you up tonight? Around 7? For a really good first date, er, meeting?”

 

“You talk a big game,” Ali says, smirking.

 

“You love it,” Ashlyn sings, walking down the hallway. “See you tonight!”

 

When Ali shuts the door, she all but sprints into her room for her phone and calls Kyle. He doesn’t pick up –it’s far too early for him to be awake in Los Angeles, and she tries to be as coy as possible in her voicemail.  
  


“Kyle, the craziest thing happened last night. Call me back when you wake up. But don’t sleep too late. I've got an important meeting to go to tonight.”


	2. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of reconciliation here and there.

The meeting is not well received by Ali’s friends and family. Kyle threatens to fly back to DC when he hears – and within fifteen minutes of hanging up after she thinks she’s talked him down, Liz rings her doorbell, apparently on Kyle’s strict orders. Ali leans against the intercom, speaking out to Liz.

 

“I’m not going to let you in if you’re just going to chastise me.”

 

“You act like this isn’t a courtesy and I don’t already have a key to your place!” Liz replies, and Ali hears the front door open.

 

When Liz gets up to the apartment, Ali is trying on outfits for her date, er, meeting, and pulling on a pair of strappy heels.

 

“Alexandra Blaire you are not going to meet with Ashlyn dressed like _that_ ,” she all but yells, looking Ali up and down with her hands on her hips. “Unless you’re trying to get her back in which case you’re not making any of the progress I thought you were. Any of us thought you were. _You_ thought you were!”

 

“I’m not trying to get her back,” Ali says, sheepishly staring at the toes of her shoes.

 

“Alex.”

 

Liz folds her arms, and Ali sits down on her bed, crossing her legs and staring into her hands.

 

“Ashlyn is different.”

 

“You can’t just drop everything for someone who dumped you five months ago because she banged down your door at 2am. Drunk. How do you know she’s not going to just show up and change her mind and break your heart again?”

 

Liz is echoing Kyle, and Ali knows it’s entirely possible that maybe Ashlyn’s thoughts were liquor fueled and maybe Ali’s acceptance was liquor fueled and maybe they’re better off at an arm’s length at least.

 

But there’s also the fact that Ali felt more whole talking through her heartbreak with Ashlyn than she did for months beforehand. Even at her best – surrounded by family and friends, working out, putting touches on the ball – there was a piece of her missing that was there after just a few moments with Ashlyn.

 

“She wouldn’t do that, Liz.”

 

“You’re raw and she knows it.”

 

“I already agreed to go.”

 

“Then cancel. We can stay in tonight, watch a movie, paint our nails. I just want you to be sure you’ve thought this through all the way. Because if you go and realize you’re just going to throw yourself at her? There’s no coming back from that. We’re at square one.”

 

“What am I supposed to tell her?”

 

“Tell her your friends are making you think this through a little bit more. You can put all the blame on me, I don’t care. I’m sure she hates me already.” Liz takes Ali’s phone off the dresser, tossing it across the room gently to Ali. “Let’s go.”

 

The phone rings twice before Ashlyn picks up.

 

“Ali.”

 

“Ash,” Ali replies, looking up and locking eyes with Liz. “Ashlyn. I’m going to need to cancel tonight I think.”

 

“Did I do something?”

 

“No, not at all. Well besides break up with me five months ago.”

 

“I thought that was what we were going to talk about,” Ashlyn says softly.

 

“I just… I think I want to take some time and think about this without you sitting outside of my bedroom waiting for an answer.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you, okay? I want to. I just don’t think tonight is the right choice. If you don’t think you can wait and give me time it’s probably for the best we don’t meet up tonight anyway.”

 

“No, no,” Ashlyn says, her voice frantic. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you’re ready, okay? When you call I’ll pick up.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I fucked this up, Alex, we can fix this on your timeline.”

 

“Thank you, Ash,” Ali murmurs into the phone, forgetting Liz is in the room until she clears her throat. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Me too,” Ali says softly before hanging up.”

 

“Was that so hard?” Liz says, as Ali slips the heels off her feet, tugs her dress off, and pulls sweatpants on.

 

“No, but it still sucked.”

 

“You’ll thank me when all this is over.”

 

A few hours later, when the credits for _Bridget Jones Diary_ are rolling, Ali is popping popcorn in the kitchen when Liz finally brings up Ashlyn.

 

“Why do you even want Ashlyn after all that?”

 

“Because I love her.”

 

“Right. But why do you love her?”

 

“What answer are you looking for?” Ali asks, watching the kernels pop in pot.

 

“The truth, always. I guess I don’t really get it.”

 

“When she showed up here and she wanted to talk and she poured her heart and soul out to me, I was running through the list of reasons in my head why it was a bad idea for her to even talk to me. And then I was running through the list of reasons why her coming back was one of the best things that could happen to me. And every time I found one reason why it was bad, I had another two reasons why it was good, you know?”

 

Ali dumps the popcorn from the pot to the bowl, salting it before heading back into the living room.

 

“She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. She got me through my ACL and through coming out to my family and I helped her through so much… As much as I want to hate her I can’t picture living a life without her.”

 

“Do you ever think,” Liz says slowly. “That you’re in love with who she was and not who she is? Like, who she was in the big, clutch moments where you needed someone? Not who she is day to day?”

 

“I don’t really think who she is in clutch moments and who she is day to day are different people. That’s why I fell in love with her.” Ali pauses, clearing her throat before changing the subject. “What do you want to watch next?”

 

\--

 

It takes two weeks for Ali to work up the nerve to call Ashlyn again. She does it in the kitchen around noon, knowing it’s Ashlyn’s lunch break, face in her hand. Ashlyn picks up on the second ring.

 

“Ali.”

 

“Hi, Ashlyn.”

 

“Did you change your mind?”

 

“Are you free tonight?”

 

“I can be if you want me. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

 

“Do you still get off work at 5?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Come here right from there.”

 

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

 

Ali is antsy, and it’s more because she’s opted not to tell her friends that she’s meeting with Ashlyn for fear of being forced to cancel again. She is not a good liar, and even though none of her friends have any reason to ask her what she’s doing tonight, she thinks of elaborate lies to tell just in case. As the clock ticks closer to five, Ali starts to get dressed, opting for jeans and a sweater instead of the dress and strappy heels she knows would get Ashlyn home with her. When Ashlyn finally texts that she’s outside, Ali nearly forgets to lock the door in her rush out the door.

 

Ashlyn’s car still smells the same, like sex wax and air freshener and Old Spice, and Ashlyn still looks the same, like an angel. When Ali buckles her seat belt, Ashlyn smiles.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“Where do you want to go? For dinner?”

 

“Do you want to just go to Panera or something?”

 

“Yeah that sounds fine.”

 

They drive quietly, Ashlyn’s body language tense. Ali tries not to look too closely at Ashlyn’s hands, tightly clenched on the steering wheel. Sometimes Ali forgets how long Ashlyn’s fingers are, but it all comes back in the front seat of that car and Ali feels something in her gut she hasn’t felt in months. When they pull into Panera and Ashlyn parks, she turns to Ali.

 

“You know what Eli said to me the morning after you bailed a couple weeks ago?”

 

“I don’t think I really care what Eli said.”

 

Ashlyn keeps talking as she gets out of the car, yelling until Ali walks around the car to meet her. “He took one look at me and said ‘She cancelled, didn’t she?’”

 

“And you said?”

 

“Yes. And then I cried a little.”

 

“No way,” Ali says, rolling her eyes.

 

“I did. I was really broken up about it.”

 

“Did he think I was going to do it again?”  
  
  
“He definitely did. I’m going to gloat about it.”

 

They walk the rest of the way to Panera in silence, and when they reach the front of the line, Ashlyn turns to Ali, pulling her wallet from her back pocket.

 

“Is your order still the same?”

 

Ali nods, and Ashlyn orders for both of them. Ali knows that she should really pay for her own food if this isn’t a date, but opts against it because maybe it’s not so bad if this is a date. When their food is pushed over the counter, Ashlyn grabs both plates and they find a table tucked away from the louder area. Ashlyn places both plates down before sitting, propping herself up with her elbows.

 

“So. Why’d you call me?”

 

“I wanted to see you.”

 

“Okay. But see me to be mad at me or see me to be my friend or see me to date me.”

 

“I don’t know, Ash. I guess to talk about how realistic dating you is. I spent the last two weeks really really thinking about it with a lot of people and I just… I need to make a couple of things really clear.”

 

“I’m listening.” Ashlyn tilts her head, eyebrows raised.

 

“Okay. I like you a lot. I like spending time with you. But I need this time to be different. You are out, everyone knows you’re gay – you just give it off. And I’m obviously not like that. And it’s hard. I sometimes wish I was like you and I could just put on a suit and have everyone accept it no questions asked. But I can’t and I know I don’t want to.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“And that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. It just means I need to do the whole _coming out_ thing at my own pace. So if that’s really a deal-breaker for you, like it was a few months ago? This isn’t going to work.”

 

The words are coming out too fast, and their food is getting cold, but Ali can’t stop talking. Every non-angry feeling she’d had for Ashlyn – everything she wanted to tell Ashlyn while they were still dating and she didn’t feel like she could say – was coming up, and it doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

 

“Alex,” Ashlyn says softly.

 

“And I love you, you know that. And I can’t shake that and I don’t even think I want to. Even after all this shit.”

 

“Alex. Listen to me.”

 

Ali’s hands are shaking as she places them on the table, and Ashlyn covers them with her own.

 

“I will do whatever it takes to make this work. Jump through every hoop. We could be dating in secret for as long as you want, I don’t care. I just want you. And you can take all the time you need.”

 

“You can’t move in yet,” Ali says, tone measured.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“I’m not going to tell anybody about this until we’ve stabilized.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Not even Liz or Kyle.”

 

Ashlyn pauses before answering. “That’s fine. It’s your decision. As long as you’re not doing it because you’re embarrassed.”

 

“I’m not embarrassed. I just want us to be sure. Before we plaster it all over social media again. I want it to just be for us.”

 

“I can handle that.”

 

They finish dinner on relatively light topics. Ashlyn got a promotion, her brother has a new girlfriend. Her family is good. She’s been living in Eli’s spare bedroom, paying some rent for the last six months. She listens intently to Ali’s holiday woes, nodding sympathetically when Ali mentions her family trying _not_ to mention Ashlyn at the dinner table. They leave after precariously stacking plates and sprinting to the car in the bitter cold. Once settled in the driver’s seat, Ashlyn pulls out and taps a rhythm on the steering wheel.

 

“So is this our first date?”

 

“I don’t know about you but I’m going to continue thinking our first date was in Cancun. Not in a DC Panera Bread.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Ashlyn fiddles with the radio the rest of the way home – as she does when she’s nervous. Ali resists the nerve to grab Ashlyn’s hand, tell her to stop fidgeting, it’s all okay now. But they're not there yet. When they pull up in front of Ali’s building, she takes the plunge.

 

“Thanks for dinner, Ash,” Ali says, resting her hand on Ashlyn’s thigh, shaking just a little bit.

 

“No problem.”

 

Ali pauses, staring at Ashlyn’s lips, then back at her eyes, then back at her lips, watching as the corners turn up.   
  


"I know that look."  
  


Ali leans in, kissing Ashlyn softly at first, before lacing her fingers in Ashlyn’s hair and pulling her in. They stay like that for a moment, Ali too nervous to part her lips and Ashlyn too respectful to do the same. When Ali pulls away, she smiles, running her thumb down Ashlyn's cheek.

 

“Thanks again for dinner.”

 

Ali hops out of the car, trying her best not to turn around and look at Ashlyn, still reeling in the driver’s seat.

\--

 

Three weeks in, they make love for the first time. Again. They go out six times in those three weeks, and some days Ali brings coffee to Ashlyn’s office on her lunch break, hanging around as long as she can, hoping for an incognito kiss. Ashlyn invites Ali over for dinner that night, to Eli’s apartment while he’s out of town. When she finishes cooking and they sit down to eat, Ashlyn stops Ali from pouring her a glass of wine.

 

“I want to remember everything about tonight, I think.”

 

“What are you, expecting something special?” Ali asks, smirking as she presses the cork back into the bottle.

 

“Every night I get to spend with you is special.”

 

Ali had rolls her eyes, but Ashlyn’s expression is sincere.

 

“I mean it. I’m really… grateful I guess. For all of this. For getting to do all this stuff again with you.”

 

After dinner, they curl on the couch, Ali tucked underneath Ashlyn’s arm, watching an episode of _The Bachelor_ Ashlyn had recorded just for Ali. When Ali slides her hand up Ashlyn’s thigh under the blanket, Ashlyn freezes and Ali pulls away sharply. When Ashlyn speaks, her words are slow and deliberate.

 

“Ali, can I be honest with you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I miss… I miss your body.”

 

Ali can feel the heat rush to her face – and other places – as Ashlyn lays her hand over Ali’s before continuing.

 

“We’re taking this slow, I get it, and we’re really trying to make sure it’s all still good between us. But I miss running my hands over every inch of you. And I miss watching your face from between your legs and I miss the way you’re so… appreciative.” She smirks, looking down at her hands before up at Ali. “I miss making you feel good.”

 

And with that, Ali straddles Ashlyn, pressing her back into the couch with a deep kiss. They stay like that for a while, Ashlyn’s hands wandering over Ali’s body, always over her clothes, very reserved and respectful. Ali takes Ashlyn’s hands, sliding them under her shirt.

 

“I want you to take me to bed, Ash,” she murmurs against Ashlyn’s lips. “Just pick me up and take me to bed.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you I just wanted to be honest with you.”

 

“Ashlyn,” Ali says, trying to mask the roughness in her voice with sincerity. “Remember when we first started dating and we did… this for the first in Sweden? After all those months of Skype sex.”

 

Ashlyn nods.

 

“Remember how you were hesitant because you didn’t want to hurt me and you wanted to take it at my pace. And how I _begged_ you to touch me and when you did I told you every single fucking thing you were worried about felt good.”

 

Ashlyn shifts underneath Ali, and Ali wonders if the same heat that’s pooling in her own stomach is pooling in Ashlyn’s.

 

“I want the same things you want, Ash. I promise. I wouldn’t be here, like this, in this position, if I didn’t want you the way you want me. So please, Ashlyn.”

 

Ali knows that Ashlyn’s trying to be sexy, but her smirk looks more like a dorky grin as she stands, locking Ali’s legs around her waist, and carries her to the bedroom. Ashlyn’s just as good as Ali remembers, both with her tongue and her fingers on every part of her and with her head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut, screaming Ali’s name like she’s a deity. They fall asleep tangled in each other, the TV still blaring in the living room.

 

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Ali murmurs against Ashlyn’s shoulder the next morning.

 

“Which one?” Ashlyn asks, her voice still raspy with sleep.

 

“What?”

 

Ashlyn clears her throat before rolling onto her back. “Well there’s the first kiss of all of _this_ , or the first kiss when we got back together.”

 

“If you forgot our first kiss back together, I’d probably have to rethink this. Again. I mean the first first one. In Cancun with the National Team.”

 

“How could I forget? Best damn first kiss a girl could ask for. I pulled out all the stops,” Ashlyn laughs.

 

“Oh please,” Ali says, gently slapping Ashlyn’s shoulder. “The scenery did a lot of the work for you. It’s impossible no to have a great first kiss in Cancun.”

 

“That’s true, but I think the romantic dinner at sunset helped.”

 

“Do you know that’s the first time I felt myself falling for you?”

 

“A good kiss will do that to you.”

 

“Mm,” Ali says, straddling Ashlyn’s hips and bending down to kiss Ashlyn’s neck, nipping gently when Ashlyn responds. “That _was_ a good kiss.”

 

“Some of our best work.”

 

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Ali laughs, kissing from the base of Ashlyn’s neck to her earlobe before sitting up, tying her hair up in a bun. “I was clumsy and nervous.”

 

“That’s what made it so good. You were cute. Your first kiss. You giggled like a schoolgirl after.”

 

“With a _girl._ I kissed plenty of guys before you.”

 

“Which is dramatically different from kissing a girl. All of it is. You told me that the first time I made you come.”

 

Ali lets out a poorly suppressed moan, grinding down against Ashlyn as Ashlyn thumbs over her nipples gently before running her hands down her sides. When Ali rolls her eyes at Ashlyn’s pompous grin, Ashlyn reaches down, fingers brushing against where Ali is most sensitive.

 

“Are you hungry?” Ashlyn says, stroking Ali absently, seemingly ignorant to the way Ali is squirming on top of her. “We could go get some breakfast. Or I could make you something. What time is it?”

 

“Ash.”

 

“I meant to set the timer on the coffeepot last night but you distracted me, so that’s not ready. But I can make a pot. We could go for a run first. How’s that sound?”

 

“Ashlyn,” Ali whines, as Ashlyn’s thumb ghosts over Ali’s clit.

 

“What, sweetheart?” Ashlyn’s smirking, her voice syrupy sweet, thickly betraying how turned on she is, and Ali knows that she’s getting close. Ali is very sensitive in the morning and Ashlyn remembers, increasing the pressure on her clit ever so slightly. Ali bites her lip so hard it’s white underneath, and it only takes a few more strokes from Ashlyn for her to come with a quiet sigh. She collapses so that she’s chest to chest with Ashlyn, breath heavy.

 

“You always were faster in the morning,” Ashlyn whispers, tracing circles on Ali’s back with her index finger.

 

“You caught me off guard.”

 

“Didn’t feel off guard to me,” Ashlyn says, kissing Ali’s forehead. “You never answered me before. Do you want to get something to eat?” She twists to check the time on the nightstand. “God, it’s nearly noon. I guess lunch?”

 

Ali’s fingers ghost down Ashlyn’s abs towards her thighs. “I can think of something.”

 

Ashlyn groans. “Alex… We need to actually eat something.”

 

“Can I finish this first?” Ali murmurs, slipping her hand between Ashlyn’s legs. Ashlyn laughs, breath catching in her throat. “If you insist.”

 

When Ashlyn comes around Ali’s two curled fingers, she doesn’t even try to suppress the expletives spilling from her mouth. And when she relaxes, spent, and Ali kisses her after licking her fingers clean, Ashlyn can taste herself and considers pinning Ali to the mattress to start all over again.

 

But before she can, Ali bounces out of bed, tugging a pair of Ashlyn’s shorts over her hips and digging for a t-shirt, while Ashlyn watches, chewing on her lip.

 

“Stop staring and get out of bed, I’m hungry.”

\--

 

Four weeks in, they come out for the first time. Again. It’s over breakfast, at a coffee shop down the block from Ali’s apartment. Ali hasn’t left home in three days, stirring from her bed with Ashlyn only to eat and work out. The bitter winter is finally drawing to a close, and although March began with blustering winds and irritating snowfall, as the month draws to a close, the weather gets warmer and the breeze a little gentler.

 

“I want to tell Kyle,” Ali says, sipping her coffee as they watch morning commuters filter through, getting to go cups as the two of them eat. Ashlyn’s eyes go wide as saucers.

 

“Already?”

 

“It’s been a month, Ash. A month of sneaking around more than we were before.”

 

“But he hates me.”

 

“He’s not going to like you again if he never finds out we’re dating.”

 

Ashlyn shifts back, crossing her legs and lacing her fingers over her knee.

 

“I guess I should be glad that you want to tell somebody. That’s already a change of pace.”   


“Ashlyn,” Ali’s tone is almost scolding. “That’s not fair. This is different. We’re lucky nobody has caught us yet. And I tell Kyle everything. It’s been agony not telling him.”

 

“Okay. What are you going to do? Send him a text?” Ashlyn puts on a semi-mocking tone. “ _Back in love with Ashlyn! Love you!_ ”

 

Ali rolls her eyes. “I was hoping you’d call him with me.”

 

“When?”

 

“When we… go back to the apartment? He’s probably up. I texted him to ask if we could Skype, so we should head back.”

 

Ashlyn groans. “Are you sure I should be there? I can go home.”

 

“No, I want you to be there.”

 

They walk back to the apartment, pinkies linked. Ashlyn gets an apple from Ali’s fridge while Ali opens up her laptop on the couch, starting the call with Kyle. Ashlyn listens quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Ali has headphones in, so Ashlyn can only hear one side, and she knows if she tries to read Kyle’s lips he’ll definitely see her.

 

“How are you? What’s new? I’m good… Everything’s good. Really good. Hopefully getting the call up for camp in a few weeks. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

 

She pauses.

 

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m seeing someone. And it’s going really well. Yes, it’s a she. We’ve been together for like… four weeks now? Just about a month. She makes me really happy.”

 

Ashlyn rolls her eyes. She’s sure that Kyle is asking about how this mystery girl is better than Ashlyn. She wants to call to Ali that this is a mistake, it’s just going to make Kyle angrier. She hears Ali clear her throat. “She’s over now. If you want, I can call her in. Babe?”

 

Ashlyn treads carefully, sidling up next to Ali on the couch as Ali unplugs her headphones.

 

“Oh you have got to be fucking _kidding_ me!” Kyle all but yells. “Ali!”

 

“Listen, listen, listen to me,” Ali says, talking over him until he shuts up. “We talked about it, we talked through it. Ashlyn,” she places her hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder. “Knows she was a massive asshole and we very much got to the roots of why.”

 

“Ali,” Kyle says, his voice measured very carefully. “Can you plug in the headphones for Ashlyn? I’ve got something to say.” Ali obliges, but turns the volume on the computer up enough that she can hear him, tinny through the headphone speakers in Ashlyn’s ears. “This is so stupid. No offense, Ashlyn. But I had to walk my sister through, like, months of getting drunk and crying and if that happens again I swear to God I’ll kill you. I’ll fly across the country and kill you.”

 

Ashlyn nods, not sure whether to look at the camera or the screen, opting for the camera when Kyle’s glare feels like it could pierce her through the screen.

 

“I fucked up, but I’m not going to lose her again.”

 

“You better fucking not.”

 

“But for the record, you couldn’t kick my ass even if you tried.”

 

Kyle sighs heavily.

 

Ashlyn unplugs the headphones again, and Kyle lightens up, asking about how they got back together, listening to Ali’s stories. Ali can feel the weight of their secret coming off her chest. When Ashlyn gets up to go to the bathroom twenty minutes into the Skype call, Ali whispers to the computer.

 

“I’m really happy, Kyle.”

 

“I can tell. I’m mad that she’s the one doing it.”

 

“She’s worried you’re never going to forgive you.”

 

“I can forgive her,” Kyle sighs. “If she keeps her shit together with this. Does Liz know?”  


“No one knows but you.”

 

“Do you want me to keep it that way?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Ali hangs up when Ashlyn leaves the bathroom, after telling Kyle she loves him, and wraps her arms around her girlfriend, kissing her gently.

 

“He seems mad,” Ashlyn says, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“He’ll get over it, don’t worry.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“He loves me, and he loves you. Even if he’s forgotten a little bit.”

 

\--

 

Eight weeks in, they become a long distance couple. Again. Ali receives a call-up with the National Team, across the country in California. Ashlyn always takes the call-ups hard – maybe it’s a function of jealousy, maybe it’s just part of losing a partner to a camp for a sport she almost lost her life to in college.

 

But Ali can tell that Ashlyn is trying not to mope, even as she watches Ali fold clothes and place them carefully in her suitcase.

 

“So what’s the schedule?”

 

“Two weeks of camp, then if I get picked, two friendlies.”

 

“Then what?”  
  
“Then I come home to you and we wait for the next one.”

 

“Can I watch the games on TV?”

 

“I think so. I’ll find the channels and send them to you. If I make the team.”

 

Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “You will. You always do. Best right back in the world, right?” she says, winking, before growing solemn again. “Will you call me every night? Well, every night you feel like calling me?”

 

“So every night,” Ali says with a smile, leaning over her bag to kiss Ashlyn, who’s smiling weakly.

 

Ashlyn clears her throat. “And you’re feeling okay, right? Legs and all? Nothing’s bothering you?”

 

Ali nods. “Everything feels good. I feel good.”

 

When Ashlyn drives Ali to the airport, she stops in the short term parking lot to say goodbye away from prying eyes.

 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Ali says softly, after Ashlyn kisses her. “Don’t worry.”

 

“I’m not worried. Just don’t go on any romantic dates in California, okay?”

 

“I told you, nothing tops a first date in Cancun.”

 

“I love you, Alex.”

 

“Love you too, Ash.”

 

Ashlyn helps her get her bags from the trunk when they drive to the departures entrance of the airport. Ali wraps Ashlyn in a bone crushing hug.

 

“See you soon,” she whispers in Ashlyn’s ear. “Miss you already.” 

  
Ali stays on the curb until she sees Ashlyn's car pull away. There's a safety in knowing Ashlyn will be here, waiting for her when she comes back after the whirlwind of international soccer. There's a safety in knowing Ashlyn is hers. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok that is IT that's all she wrote (she being me) but I hope this gave some resolution to all that angst.
> 
> Thank you for the feedback and comments. All the love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! What was your favorite line/vignette? Lots of love as always.


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